Seasons

I've contemplated and pondered the concept of time quite a bit, as of late (Please forgive the lack of eloquence within this post):

1 year; 365 days; 8,760 hours; 525,600 minutes; and 31,536,000 seconds of life

As a mom, many days come and go, run together with all of the "to do's," the lists of milk and bread and cheese and crackers, the packing of lunches, laundry that piles up each day, meals, dishes, and all the other monotony of living. Sometimes, I count down the time until little ones take naps, get on the school bus, or say good-night prayers.

Then, there's the other side of me that is standing in front of the bus, willing it to stop, trying to make each moment count, doing everything I can to keep bedtime from coming--for fear that I am going to miss it all.

David, Ethan, and I curled up in my bed earlier this week on Monday morning to watch Toy Story 3. I do fine, until that final scene when Andy gives up the most precious part of his childhood--Woody. Without fail, it brings me to tears every time and I find myself sort of suffocating in my chest.

My season of holding little babies, making bottles, changing diapers, teething, discovering new words, and maneuvering onesies is quickly coming to a close. (Yes, we have started the adoption process, but we anticipate that our bundle of pink will be closer to toddler age than newborn.) And it's okay. Change is good. It is the only part of life that is constant.

There are years, when I look back, where "testimony" depicted that era, "sacrifice" another, "learning," "maturation," "humility," "confidence," and this year, I think a few words describe our season: healing, calm, motherheart, simplify.

Right now, I have to limit what we do outside the walls of our home. Soccer is not our priority at this time. Service outside of our family is much more limited than usual. Sometimes, we have to say "no." Home dates are of the essence. We are strengthening and fortifying ourselves with a firmer routine of prayer and scripture study. Our growth feels somewhat on hold, and instead, we find ourselves searching for peace, steadying ourselves, maintaining the oil in our lamps to prevent darkness, and really, we're staying afloat.

It's not a bad season; though, do we ever wish for this season? It's not an easy season, but it will make us stronger. And in the end, I know that this season will teach us opposition and make the joyful seasons that much sweeter.

Little bouts of sunlight peak through each day: Ethan did his happy dance this morning, while he devoured his cheese snack and cup of "milky," David shared his lunch with Ethan today and made sure to cut it in small bites before feeding it to him, Ethan gave Davey about 10 kisses before bed last night, and Matthew and David worked together yesterday before school to clean up their room without being asked.

We're learning to welcome those wonderful moments, but also embrace and confront those hard ones too. No longer are we praying for release from this season, but strength to be sustained and make it through.